Sure
by Wench77
Summary: One-shot pre DH - pure R/H fluff. As ever, I own nothing!


The door to Ginny's room let out a creak as he pushed it ajar and Ron winced, frozen on the spot. He could just make out the back of Hermione's head, unruly curls sticking out in all directions over the back of the ancient velvet sofa.

She was sitting bolt upright, staring into the fireplace and Ron wasn't sure whether to leave her with her thoughts. Just as he was about to edge back down the landing she spoke, making his decision for him.

"Everything's going to be different now."

It wasn't a question, but Ron searched for an answer anyway, pulling the door closed behind him as he stepped into the room. He joined her on the sofa, sure he could feel heat radiating off her event though they were at least a foot apart.

"Yeah," he admitted, eyes fixed on the flickering flames. "Suppose it has to be."

Her voice was quiet now, low enough that he had to edge closer to her to make out her words – not that he minded.

"And not all… not all of us are going to make it."

Ron instantly wanted to reassure her, swept up in the familiar urge to say something, _anything_ , that would make the worried crease between her brows go away. But something stopped him short. This didn't seem like that sort of conversation.

"No," he agreed, his voice as quiet as hers. "No, I don't suppose we are."

The words hung heavy in the air between them. It was mad, but somehow it made him feel better to have acknowledged the truth they'd been avoiding for so long. Hermione seemed to feel the same, because after a few more seconds she gave a curt not and turned her head, meeting his gaze with glittering eyes.

"We've got an important part to play," she told him firmly. "From now until everything is over, we have to make sure Harry's ok."

Ron opened his mouth to agree that of _course_ , he knew that, but she stayed his words with a hand on his chest and suddenly all he could think about was the heat of her palm through the thin flannel of his shirt and the embarrassing realisation that she had to be able to feel his heart thudding wildly at her touch.

"That's not what I want to talk about now, though." Her voice didn't waver, but a pink tinge was rising in her cheeks. Ron just stared at her, wondering what on Earth she was going to say next.

"The next few months, or even _years_ will be all about Harry. And there's every chance that at the end of it you, or I, or both of us, won't be around to see what happens next. So that's why I think it's important that you know now…"

She trailed off and Ron wanted to shake her, to scream _'What!? That I know WHAT!?'_ in her face, but instead he sat there, paralysed, with her hand warm on his chest and tried to keep a lid on the tiny ember of hope flickering inside him.

She gave another miniscule nod, the way she always did when she was giving herself a pep talk, and lifted her chin defiantly.

"Ron, it's important that you know that I'm in love with you."

Whoosh. For a second he just sat there, stunned by the enormity of her words, and then the ember of hope became a raging inferno. Hermione Granger – his Hermione – in love with him! At that moment he could've taken on Voldemort and his entire army single handed.

Then the warmth of Hermione's hand slipped away from his chest and through the haze he noticed the worry-crease beginning to reappear. With a shock Ron realised that the woman of his dreams had just declared her love for him and he was staring at her like she'd sprung another head.

"Hermione!" he blurted, reaching for her hand where she'd let it drop to the sofa. "You- you really- I mean- Are you sure?"

The wrinkle in her brow deepened and he knew he'd said the wrong thing – that, at least, was familiar territory. Thoughts racing, Ron tried to settle on the words that would make things right.

"I mean, I hope you are," he said, eyes fixed on hers. "Sure, I mean. Because if you are that's just about the most bloody brilliant thing I've ever heard."

Hermione's blush deepened and the line between her brows smoothed away completely, only to be replaced by the dimples which appeared when she gave that real smile that only ever seemed to come out for him.

"It is?" She asked. He nodded, a grin spreading across his face.

"I'd say so! I mean, God knows what you're thinking – I'd heard you were supposed to be bright – but I'll try not to make you regret it too much."

She shifted her eyes away from his face, looking down at her small hand enfolded in his large one.

"And is there anything that you think _I_ should know?" she inquired delicately. Ron could've slapped himself.

"Oh, yeah!" he told her, running his thumb across her knuckles. "I am absolutely, completely in love with you. Have been for ages."

He knew he was blushing furiously too, now, but he couldn't bring himself to care. And when she looked up him again and said "Ron? I think now might be a good time for you to kiss me," he knew that nothing could worry him that night.


End file.
